The life & times of the eternally evolving, erratic, eccentric expatriate (who loves the color violet)

Monthly Archives: November 2014

Every parent wants to give their child what they couldn’t or didn’t have when they were growing up, and to surpass them in every way possible. I am not the perfect mom, though with my husband’s help, I understand and accept that this ideal does not exist. I am nevertheless proud that Fede and I have been able to provide for our precious son in every way, though not just materialistically. Apart from having all of his basic needs met, my son is truly blessed that he is growing up in a stable and peaceful home with two parents who love him and love each other to pieces. I am also proud that he is being raised in a bilingual environment, which will also prove to be invaluable in the future.

Another perk that little Sebastian enjoys? Having the undivided attention of a doting, full-time stay at home parent. A parent who is there to kiss boo-boos and take care of him if he is ill, who takes him to the plaza on sunny days to play, and who is there to experience all the “little moments” that add up to so very much. But I am not referring to myself.

Before Seba was born, Fede and I took inventory of our lives and weighed the pros and the cons of different forms of childcare for our baby. When I became pregnant, I had just been hired full-time at the international American school where I am currently still employed, but Fede had recently lost his job as a graphic designer due to tough economic times that Argentina was (and still is) experiencing.

Our son was born in April of 2013, and after a few months of maternity leave, I was more than ready when I returned to my full-time job in early August of the same year. However, Fede did not. We decided that, at least for the foreseeable future, I would be the main breadwinner of the household, and that he would assume the role of the caretaker.

Yes, Fede is a stay at home dad (SAHD), a househusband, a house spouse, and so on.

And although Fede’s role as a SAHD might be considered somewhat unconventional by some (and perhaps even demasculinizing by others), I honestly have to say that I couldn’t be happier about the arrangement that we have.

I have always valued my career as a teacher. It’s more than just a job to me, it’s a major part of my identity. Have I complained and griped about my middle school position in the past? Of course I have. Will I ever kvetch about it again? Duh. But I’ve often said that if I weren’t a teacher, I don’t know what I would do with myself, what else I could be, and that declaration also includes being a full-time stay at home mom.

There is no denying that being a parent for any gender is by far the most important job that one can have, as well as one of the most fulfilling. On the other hand, I cannot deny that one of the virtues that I place a great deal of importance on is working a job that I find to be dignified, intellectually and emotionally stimulating, interesting, and challenging. I consider myself immensely fortunate that my husband putting his worklife on the back burner for me has meant that I can experience the best of both worlds without feeling (as much) guilt. My job, though secure, does not have much scheduling flexibility. I’m not a CEO or a lawyer of any sort, but I take great pride in my job, which requires a great deal of time and energy and attention even after I “clock out for the day.” But at the very least, I have the peace of mind knowing that Seba is in the best hands possible, under the care of someone who loves him and will care for him just as much as I would. As a career-minded mom, I never had to stress about finding adequate, safe, trustworthy, reputable childcare (that would surely cost a small fortune anyway), which is something that truly has no price. It’s not to say that it’s not somewhat of a financial sacrifice. Surviving on a teacher’s salary alone is not easy, but we make it work.

My husband is truly a phenomenal father, which is reflected in how my 20 month old son is developing and interacting with others and his surroundings. I’m personally very content with our arrangement. Though interestingly enough, not everyone else is.

We often deal with unsolicited advice or judgement from third parties. Coworkers, friends, casual acquaintances, and even some relatives. People who incorrectly presume that I am one of “those women,” selfishly or carelessly prioritizing my job over my family, or that Fede is a lazy bum who needs a major dose of testosterone, and that we are ultimately setting a poor example for our child. It seems that everyone has something to say on the matter.

Pffffft. Screw them.

If the situation were reversed and I was a stay at home mom, I have a feeling that very few people would find anything to reproach. Apart from gender, I see absolutely no difference in the situation. What I do see is that Fede and I make a great team. He does what I would not be capable of doing at home, and I also fill in gaps that would be difficult for him to fill.
As I previously observed, there is no such thing as the perfect parent or the ideal childcare situation when you live in the real world and someone has to work to bring home the bacon. Regardless, I feel that we are doing the right thing for us, we are raising a happy, clever, delightful little boy, and as a family, we are thriving. What is not to love?

I know that it has been a few weeks since I last updated, but I have not felt the impulse to write in some time, not even really right now, to be honest. But I do because I make myself. I still feel undeniably empty. Each time I start a sentence, I read it, then reread it, and then promptly erase it (which is not going to get me anywhere). I sigh, I gaze into nothing, and I feel a terrific weight burdening my body, anchoring it down to the ground. These past few weeks, I have had a wandering mind. I’ve been day dreaming, pondering, and contemplating. I can’t exactly say the reason for my pensive mood, but I feel mentally restless (surprise, surprise).

At the same time, I am finding it increasingly more focus on any one task. I have to admit that I feel like I am looking for something that I cannot identify, drifting from here to there in aimless and perpetual circles.

I don’t know why.

I’ve just reread what I’ve wrote. I’m not very satisfied with it, nor am I pleased with how many times I use the word “I.” It sounds rather self absorbed, doesn’t it? But for now, it will have to do.

In all honesty, I cannot say that anything is direly wrong or missing from my life. I just feel… depleted. Not even sad, per se. Just depleted of energy and emotion. And I can’t help but wonder if this state resembles anything close to normalcy. Probably not.

It makes me feel guilty and ungrateful for not being capable to appreciate everything that I have in my life. I hope and long for something to ignite me, to re-spark something, to feel active and engaged and happy about something. But after looking deep inside of myself, I come up empty-handed. In the words of Lewis Carroll, “You used to be much more…”muchier.” You’ve lost your muchness.”

It’s exhausting to live in your own head. I need a change of some sort. What it is and where it ought to come from, I have no idea. But feeling like this is simply exhausting and unsustainable.

From the time I was twelve until I was fifteen, I earned up to my dark navy belt in the Korean martial art, one rank below a first degree black belt. I look back on those formative years with a great deal of fondness – It did wonders for me and for my self esteem. I could break boards and spar with the best of them. I learned about self discipline, how to push myself further than I ever thought possible, and to expect more from myself. These lessons have served me well, well into my adult years.

I can curl my tongue in three

This recessive trait is not exactly useful (unless you count the ability to gross people out at will useful… hmmmm), but at least it’s something that sets me apart from the rest. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, and if you dare, click here to see me curl my tongue in three!

When I was younger, I wanted to teach deaf people

“I love you” in American Sign Language

The ability and the desire to teach and interact with people has always come naturally to me. When I was in the fourth grade, I happened to come across a book about American sign language in a used book store, and attempted to teach myself the signs. I ultimately abandoned the endeavor, however, when I was unable to find anyone to practice with. Kind of a shame, I wish I hadn’t given it up. I still know the ASL alphabet and also remember some key signs, but don’t really know how to apply them to form coherent sentences (as the overall syntax of ASL is different from that of the English language). In any case, my ESL students have gotten a kick out of it when I have taught them to fingerspell their own names in sign language.

One day, I hope to master a third language

I’m a strong believer in the expression that to learn another language is to gain another soul. One of the very few things that I lament from my privileged childhood is that I grew up in a monolingual home (which is especially unfortunate when you consider that between the two of them, my German and Polish grandparents spoke a total of seven languages!). The top languages on my “to-learn” lista are Portuguese or Korean. Portuguese because there are many Brazilians living or visiting Buenos Aires, and I just love the way it sounds – So exotic, so nasal, so… Brazilian! I guess my two trips to Belo Horizonte as a teenager also have something to do with my fascination with the language. My desire to learn Korean comes from both my experiences with taekwondo as well as the nearly five months that I spent living in Seoul. Although I was never able to take any Korean classes while living there, I was still able to learn Hangul and how to phonetically read and write the language.

I love, love, love random trivia

Did you know that the Empire State Building has exactly 6,500 windows? Or that the reason cats are said to have nine lives is because three was considered a sacred number in ancient Egypt where they worshipped cats, and three multiplied by three is nine? Or that William Shakespeare was born in Stratford Upon Avon? Or although hamburgers don’t contain ham, they got their name from their city of origin- Hamburg, Germany? You get the point. It’s odd- I can’t tell you with absolute certainty my blood type, but I can pull the most random facts off the top of my brain and insert them into just about any conversation, which either intrigues some people or makes them look at me like I’m Sheldon Cooper. In any case, my knack for remembering dates, events, and people is a quirk that I am particularly proud of (and one that serves me well as a teacher!).

I have an unexplainable fear of (almost) all dogs

“Grrrrrr!”

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I find nearly all dogs to be menacing, intimidating, and prefer to simply avoid them at all costs. Yes, even little ones. I guess I could trace at least a part of this fear’s origin to my time as a girl scout, when I got chased out of my share of yards, who knows? Their loud barks and their sharp canine teeth simple scare me sh*tless. I’m undoubtedly a crazy “cat lady” to the core.

When I was a teenager, I wanted to be like Madonna

Guess who???

Fingerless gloves? Check! Crosses? Check! Fishnet stockings? Check! Cone bra? Not exactly. When I was in high school, I practically worshipped the Queen of Pop. I found her confidence and her sense of both style and perfectionism to be fascinating and something that I wanted to emulate in any way possible. Why her and not Eleanor Roosevelt, you may ask? She made being smart as well as sexy the epitome of cool for me. Granted, dressing like Madonna as a teenager caused me some very unpleasant situations (let’s just say haters gonna hate!), and looking back on old photos, I wish that I had covered up a bit more. Nevertheless, I guess your teenage year are the time for making erroneous decisions, acting crazy, and discovering exactly who you are and who what kind of person you want to be. A laughable era indeed, but ultimately no regrets.

I have a book from that I made filled with quotations

I guess this factoid goes hand in hand with my love of trivia. I love to read and to talk with people, and often hear several pearls of wisdom along the way. When I was a teenager, I started collecting these quotations together and writing them down in a blank book. They range from silly to serious, from topics like love to faith to integrity and creativity, from speakers like Nelson Mandela, Mark Twain, John Lennon, and Benjamin Franklin. I’ve always believed that truly brilliant words spoken or read at the right time can make a deep impact on a person. Which quote is my favorite? That’s like asking a mother who her favorite child is. I just can’t say! 🙂

Before I came to Buenos Aires, a part of my role as an ESL teacher was to aid immigrants and other non-native English speakers in acclimating to life in the United States. After all, living abroad in a country, no matter what the circumstances, is never easy. Throw in a totally new language, and seemingly mundane things become highly formidable.

How could I have known that now, many years later, I would presently find myself in their shoes, attempting to make sense of what my life has become by living in a country that is not my own.

I’ve been living in Argentina for nearly six years. In six long years, a lot has happened. This is not the same country that it was at the start of 2009, and I am not the same person as I was in 2009. In the time that I have been here after leaving South Korea (in loosely chronological order), I was able to find an apartment, secure a decent job, fall in love, get married, and have a child.

But the story doesn’t end here.

In the course of the same six years that I have been here, I have experienced what was once a country that I felt a profound connection to and warmth for turn into what feels like a sinking ship. For those who are not terribly familiar with what is going on down here, here are a few of the highlights of what has happened since my arrival in 2009:

I’ve never been a particularly materialistic person, but since coming to live here, there has been a strict ban on imported goods – electronics, foreign foods, decent clothes and shoes that don’t fall apart, replacement parts for appliances, toys, and anything not locally produced. There is no place to buy it, nor can I have it sent, either (long story… thanks, Guillermo Moreno!).

Not that I could really buy much here, even if I wanted to. In the time that I have been here, I have experienced firsthand the effects of more than thirty percent of inflation every single year. Certain personal and financial sacrifices are inevitable, they simply have to be made. Now with a child to provide for, I’m really feeling the pinch more than ever.

In the time that I have been here, the peso has plummeted to the point where it has no value whatsoever outside of Argentina’s borders, yet it became illegal to buy foreign currency.

More concerning, I have also witnessed my once relatively calm barrio of Nuñez attract more and more homeless people from the surrounding ghettoes, including children, who pick through trash and routinely ask for handouts. As a human being, it breaks my heart, and as a mother, it scares the hell out of me. Just last week, a block from my house, a local sewing goods store was held up in an armed robbery. The week before that, I saw a group of people rubber-necking at the crime scene of a break in at an apartment building around the corner. As time goes by, things are progressively getting worse and this place is going to the dogs.

Now, I’m sure you might be wondering, Violet, if you are so darn miserable in Argentina, why don’t you just up and leave? Stop the kvetching already! If only it were that simple…

It was my choice to come here, but it’s not entirely my choice to stay.

My husband is Argentine. Like many locals, my husband has extended family down here with whom he is very close, but unlike many locals, he will never, ever leave them, no matter what the circumstances – economic collapse, coup d’etat, or whatever else – that this country might have in store. I knew this going into our relationship, and have to respect that. Moreover, now we have a child which inevitably complicates things. Before his birth, we agreed that family was of utmost importance and that it was better to raise him in a place like Buenos Aires where he had as much family as possible, rather than having family members who were scattered throughout the country, like mine is in the United States.

The point is, like it or lump it, Argentina is where I am now and Argentina is where I will remain for the foreseeable future. I can’t go back and change the past, nor would (or should) I. Some days are fine here, don’t misunderstand me, though many are considerably harder. It’’s not to say that Argentina is all bad. It *does* have its redeeming qualities as well. But having a love-hate relationship with the country is something that is simply unavoidable once you’ve been here past a certain point.

In my heart, I still do have love for this country… considering all the opportunities that it has given me, how couldn’t I? But just like in a romantic relationship, sometimes love just isn’t enough. A person needs substance, stability, and a sense of balance – qualities that are not exactly associated with life in Argentina. Live and learn.